Kafkaesque Love

The starry night,

a red moon crescent,

the rhythm unfolds...

take a step forward

with fresh hope lingering

warily, the distance kept

the tables turned abrupt

 the warrior sizing me up

a cruel smile, a rough tumble,

beaten, retreat into the cocoon.

Now it’s you, stepping

 on the invisible line

pushing, prodding,

in disturbing waves

another piece of my heart

on the floor stomped,

the bright red blood

trickling under your

hob nailed shoes.

Dawn and momentary succour

to gather dense thoughts

find the will to break free

from the obsessed, maniacal

gaze you bestow.

Footfalls of the evening

all in vain

This submission of  mine*

Still could be the death of me*

To the dance floor we take

long ago willingly

often now at your behest.

 Another twirl, another piece broken

till I can leave

without a backward glance.

Until you, someday,

 see me for myself

Our love story not,

nor hints of normalcy,

the makings of a tragedy.

{Written 6 yrs ago, except for the * lines added recently.... :) }

Just A Reminder - Yuri Gagarin

 There she was...

after a dizzing burst

into the cold dark space

leaving jet streaks behind...

The enchantress

so blue, even Misha's eyes

paled in comparison

Numero Uno means little

In this void....

Hammering heart

as Home beckons

Nikita seemed happy for once.

What’s with the Babooshka and loaves

When samogonka would make me float.

("babooshka" - grandmother, "samogonka" or "moonshine" - homemade vodka, Nikita Khrushchev - the then Russian President.)

Insipid Interview ??

April showers bring May flowers...

The words kept echoing in her mind....nervous to the point of sweaty palms, this wasn’t doing her any  good.

The sheer number of ties and jackets in her peripheral vision sounded the death knell in her guts....what was she thinking, turning up?...the entire city had landed up here, well all graduates from the top colleges at least.

The interview surpassed her expectations, the panel of seven did intimidate her but fumbled across to the finishing line....

Until  asked how soon she could join...blurted out without a second thought, “April”. Blushing at the puzzled faces , realised it was almost September.

Hunger Strike - My Take

The occasion called and many rose to it...not all could tamper their schedule to represent...the ones that did, were splendid and articulate...bringing to its knees...an adamant, corrupt serpent of a government was no mean achievement...

They fasted under camera glare...I skipped my dinner in the unseen confines of my den...raised slogans, placards, held candlelight vigils...I applauded quietly forming the backdrop...

The goals achieved, the promise proclaimed before millions of witnesses...they parted, extolling the virtues of meeting again...

I wondered if things would indeed change how many of those raddled, weary denizens could withstand the urge to take the easy way out of bribe and scribe....or stay steadfast on the moral high ground they preached from, to one and all.

Girl Child - An Alternate Reality

Burned to ashes...

Never to be held to the warm bosom.

As I watched, weak and helpless,

The comforting embrace of known arms 

Enclosed in their hold, not for long.

Mud I smelt, wet, dust caused sniffles

Calloused hands unwrapped the blanket

Shivering  body laid to rest...

The billowing earth, burning lungs,

Choked cry stuck in the chest

Wriggled, twisted in agony,

The ochre colours blinding the vision,

Left to breath my last.

The heavens sadly smiled,

Warm burrowing hands desperate in their search

Burning tears of rage, echoing growls from deep within

My saviour stood fearful

Till my feeble cries of thanks he heard.

Grandfather never minded

Was his daughter's last thread left

You murdered me almost, father

Your own flesh and blood

Wouldn’t it have made a difference 

 Had I been a born a boy??